


Wineblood

by artilleryflowers



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:37:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artilleryflowers/pseuds/artilleryflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the wolf falls in love with the lamb, and the lamb falls in love with the idea that the wolf will not hurt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wineblood

"Your views of Doctor Lecter have changed? In what way, Will? Because I need you to work this case with him. And I need this case done soon." Jack Crawford's eyes were cold.

"I'm not comfortable working with him, that's all," Will said quietly, eyes darting around the room.

"Well get comfortable." Jack stood up and left, and Will could feel the slight resentment coming from him. He would have felt ashamed if he hadn't known about Hannibal. He would have been humiliated by Jack's rancor.

But Jack did not know that Hannibal ate people, therefore he was completely and totally at ease around him. He did not see Hannibal as Will did.

Will heard faint voices, as Hannibal and Jack conversed in the hallway.

Hannibal's smooth voice made Will shudder. "Trauma...people from the scene...offended in any way..."

Will shut out the voice and closed his eyes.

Will and Hannibal had been playing a game. There had been coquettish smiles and arch remarks. Low laughter as they shared a drink in the dark. But Hannibal was not one to jest. He played games with skill; he'd started in a lighthearted, loose manner but soon after, a competitive violent side of him had emerged. Will had noticed Hannibal's acquisitiveness and retreated into himself.

Hannibal had instantly snapped back into the cool, collected state of before. He'd dismissed Will's attempts to distance himself. He knew that it would gnaw it's way to Will's head. It would chew and rip him apart until he came back on fleeting and sleep-deprived feet.

Will had dissociated himself from nearly everything involving Hannibal. He'd actively avoided crime scenes where Hannibal might be involved and had stopped going to his sessions.

Naturally, his nightmares had taken a sharp turn for the worse. Although Hannibal could not make his dreams disappear, he could certainly alleviate the fear they presented. As much as Will hated to admit it, he missed the psychiatrist's company. He missed Hannibal's gentle hand on his shoulder when he told him about his dreams and about the nightmare-stag. He had been a combination of relieved, glad and irritated when Hannibal had invited him to dinner.

It was well-intentioned; Will had been for dinner before. He always brought cheap red wine, usually ones that Hannibal had to force himself to finish. However, Hannibal could not say that he wasn't flattered by Will's efforts.

He was finishing cleaning off the blood and other assorted bodily fluids from the lungs of a young yoga instructor when Will walked in. The expression on Will's face would have humored Hannibal if it had been anyone else but Will.

The bottle in Will's hand slipped out and shattered, the liquid washing out over his floors like ichor. Will swallowed and turned away. "Are those human lungs?"  


Hannibal didn't respond. Will returned his gaze to the organs. Hannibal continued rinsing them in the sink. He glanced at Will and he could see him trembling. Will excused himself and went to the restroom.

Hannibal could hear him retching violently. He could hear him hyperventilating. He could imagine his lungs expanding and contracting in panic, unable to get enough air. He perceived the rushed flurry of no's as they whispered across his otherwise quiet house.

He could imagine spilling Will's blood like Will had spilt the wine, smashing his skull against the floor. He would be protecting Will, saving him from the gracelessness that he'd just witnessed. He imagined Will laying out on his floor, like a sleeping angel, his curls sticky with blood and meretricious wine.  


He stared at the organs in his hands. They were suddenly unappetizing. He carefully wrapped them in butcher's paper and stuck them in his freezer, sighing vapidly. He'd had such wonderful plans for dinner. He would cook them when he was willing to eat. He washed his hands and untied the apron around his waist.

Will stumbled from the bathroom, holding himself against the wall to keep from falling down. He was trembling violently, mumbling lowly, his eyes darting around the room like a frightened animal's. For a moment Hannibal wondered if he'd actually driven Will mad. Will looked up at him, eyes filled with tears. Whether from the vomiting or the horror of what he'd just discovered, Hannibal did not know.

"Are you going to kill me?" Will asked hoarsely, blinking rapidly.

Hannibal stared at Will for a moment. He scrutinized Will's harrowed face, the blue eyes wide and bright in their sockets. He would delight in retaining Will's bones to keep him company, decorate them as another lovely work of art. An exquisite painting done in blood.

His fantasy was a chimera.

"I couldn't."

Will nodded and closed his eyes. His brow furrowed and Hannibal wondered what he could possibly be thinking about.

"I'm going to go home now." Will shook his head violently. He left in a daze, tripping over his own feet as he walked down to the street where his car was parked.

Hannibal glanced out the window as Will staggered out to his car. He saw as Will fumbled with the keys to his car until he finally managed to start it. He wondered if he should have gone out and told Will that he thought that driving in his current state would be dangerous. He decided against it and watched until Will's dim, foggy headlights disappeared.

Will felt a sharp fear crawl into his throat as Hannibal entered the room.

"Good evening Will," he said calmly. "I haven't seen you in quite some time. How are you doing?"

Will felt anger spike, and he felt the urge to punch Hannibal in the face. "You lied to me."

"How so, Will?"

"You are the Chesapeake Ripper. You murdered all those people. And you ate them." The last words were a mortified whisper.

"My good Will," Hannibal said. "I have also saved you a lot of problems. Many of those people were-"

"There's no excuse!" Will shouted. "You used me like a tool. I was your little marionette, your little toy. Look at me go! You never cared about me, or anything I said. You were just using me so that you wouldn't get caught!"

Hannibal felt a little prick of hurt, though he didn't show it. "Will, that is not-"

"Don't lie to me! Everything you've ever said to me has been a lie. Why should I believe you now?" Will felt that bitter anger clawing it's way out of his throat. "You have twisted me. You've warped my mind so much for your own personal gain. For _pleasure_. For a while there, I thought that you understood what I saw. You lied to me all this time. You never cared-"

"Enough!" Hannibal thundered. This shook Will into silence. He had never heard Hannibal raise his voice before.

He rolled over and faced the bleached walls. He couldn't stand to look at him. Hannibal couldn't help but notice how submissive Will's actions were.

"I understand that you think that I manipulated you, and I did, but never have I distorted your mind for amusement. Even though I was an exploiter, I never aimed to hurt you. I recognize that you have been deeply disturbed by what you have discovered, and that is expected. You will be fine when you are able to comprehend and accept everything in full. Although I was a puppeteer, and I treated you as a pawn, I have always cared about you."

Will did not turn to face him but Hannibal could see him trembling.

"Don't lie to me."

Hannibal stared at Will for a moment, wanting to say something but unable to do so. He sat down on the bed beside Will and ran a hand along his back. He felt the gentle slope of his spine and the curves of his shoulderblades. He felt Will tense. It was very pleasing to him, to be able to feel the fear that manifested inside of Will. After a few minutes, the muscles eased up and Will fell asleep. Hannibal stood up and left the room to make a call.

"Hello, is this Agent Crawford?"

"Yes, and this is Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal chuckled. "It is indeed. I have decided that this institution is not healthy for Will and-"

"He's only been there for two days. How can you say-"

"His nightmares are getting progressively worse, and I believe that he will heal better if he stays in my home for a while."

"I don't think that-"

"Will and I have discussed this. He is perfectly capable of making his own decisions."

The lie had rolled off of his tongue effortlessly, but he could tell from the agent's tone that he was suspicious. "Even in his current state, he is capable of making good decisions? He just witnessed a particularly gruesome crime scene and..."

As Jack prattled on about the recent crime scene's effects on Will, Hannibal thought about the true cause of Will's distress. He was mildly surprised that Will hadn't told Jack. He decided he would ask him about it later.

"Doctor Lecter, are you still there?"

"Yes, Agent Crawford. Though it is under your jurisdiction where Will goes for the restoration of his mental health, as his psychiatrist, I would highly recommend that he stay with me."

There was a long moment of silence before the FBI agent replied.

"If Will isn't able to be out in the field in a week, we are removing him from your home and placing him back in the ward. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir. I thank you for putting Will's needs before the case. You certainly are changing your ways." He knew it was a jab at the agent, and was pleased with himself for managing to edge it into the conversation. "Thank you very much. I shall ensure that Will recovers and may return soon."

"Goodbye, Doctor." Jack's tone was tight.

Hannibal slipped his phone into his pocket and went down to the main desk.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Hannibal Lecter-" he began.

"Yeah, you're Graham's psychiatrist. He's a real nutjob, isn't he?" The receptionist rolled her eyes.

"I'd prefer you not regard my patient with such contempt."

"Alrighty, Mister Formalities. He's free to go. We received a phone call from an agent Jack Crawford, says you're in charge now."

"Your manners need improvement, young lady. I would suggest that before the next patient is discharged." Hannibal forced a smile. "It would be for your own good, miss."

She didn't respond, but she was unable to meet his gaze.

Hannibal picked up Will's glasses and slipped them into his pocket before picking Will up. He noted how light and bony he really was, under his sweatpants and heather grey t-shirt. He exited out the back; Will was particular about dignity, and being carried by another person, especially another man, wasn't exactly dignified.

Hannibal lay him down in the back of his car and covered him in a spare blanket he had stored under the seat. The drive from the ward wasn't that far from his house, but Hannibal took the longer route. It was peaceful and the woods surrounding his house were particularly beautiful when the sun set.

He unlocked the door and went back to retrieve the still-slumbering Will. He thought about laying the special agent down on the couch to sleep, but decided to do something else.

He wanted Will to sleep in his bed. There was something so perfectly innermost about doing it. Will would sleep in the same bed, in the same sheets where Hannibal usually did. He'd leave his own scent, the one that Hannibal secretly adored. Soft pine, cheap coffee and the faint smell of motor oil. Hannibal lay Will down and covered him up. Will's dark locks sharply contrasted the crisp white sheets.

Hannibal felt the sudden urge to protect him, in this vulnerable state. Will lay in bed, an obviously distressed look on his face. Hannibal sat in the chair by the window, watching as Will gripped the sheets and tossed violently. He could see the sweat glistening on his face and he knew that in the morning his sheets would be soused. He shone in the dark, reflecting the moon's dim light. In that moment, he was the most beautiful thing Hannibal had ever laid eyes on. The sudden desire to safeguard his friend was sliced in two by the satisfaction he felt from being the cause Will's nightmares. He smiled to himself when Will jerked awake, breathing hard.

Will took deep gulps of air to steady himself. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the terror from his skull. He suddenly realized that this was not the place he'd fallen asleep and Hannibal could see him beginning to panic.

"Will Graham, you are in my home. There is no need to be alarmed." Hannibal didn't turn on the light. Will didn't need a light to know who he was.

Will sighed and closed his eyes. He lay back in bed and swallowed enormous breaths, balling the sheets in his fists.

"Smells like you," he murmured. Hannibal was somewhat surprised that Will even knew what he smelled like. Will breathed in again, and smiled deprecatingly. "It's been a while since I've been at your house."

Hannibal had never brought Will into his bedroom before. He was pleased with himself, knowing that Will was enjoying resting in his bed.

"Why do you feel the need to own me?" he asked quietly, turning to face Hannibal. His blue eyes shone in the dark, the begging question framed in black eyelashes.

Hannibal smiled at Will's observation. His little Will was so attentive to detail.

"You don't have to own me to actually just have me. It's not like I have a choice anyways." It was that same bitter laugh, so demeaning and cold, that shattered the previously pleasant mood. "You decide for me, don't you?" Will sighed and closed his eyes again.

He was so pale and still. He looked like a body stretched out, aside from the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Hannibal watched him for a long time, the quiet settling among them like fog. Will was on the verge of falling back to sleep when Hannibal spoke again.

"You never told Jack," Hannibal said quietly. "Why?"

Will's brow furrowed in thought. He never understood why he hadn't told Jack. He hadn't really thought about it until just then.

"I guess I still see you as one of the only two people in the world I can trust," he muttered. "I think I really am going insane."

Hannibal chuckled. "But now you know the truth. There is nothing more for me to do. There are no strings for me to pull. You have exposed me. You are the only one with luck terrible enough to discover it yourself."

Will paused. "Am I the only person who knows that isn't dead?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to kill me eventually?"

"I've told you before. I could never kill you." Another lie, traveling with his lips with such ease. He loved Will, without question. However, that did not mean he would not hesitate to gut him and pick his teeth with his bones.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Hannibal sat in silence for a moment, thinking. He strongly desired the taste of Will's blood, the red staining his lips and the flesh between his teeth. But as much as he could imagine it, he found himself faltering when he thought about actually going through with it. After what seemed like eternity, he simply said, "No."

Will let out a long breath and rolled over onto his side. Hannibal sat and watched him fall asleep. He wondered why he felt the desire to spare Will Graham's life. Perhaps it's because he saw himself somewhere buried inside of that lost, tortured man. He saw the empathy seated deep inside of Will and understood it as a perfect mirror of his own. Hannibal's empathy was a double-edged sword that he tried his best to handle, but occasionally someone would bump into him and he would cut himself on it. Will Graham was someone who had run into him and pushed him onto his own blade.

Hannibal shook himself from his musings and stood up. He took a blanket from the end of the bed and glanced at Will again. He turned back and planted a small kiss on Will's temple.

"I'm not asleep yet," Will mumbled. "And you didn't seem to be the kind to hide your feelings. Well, I guess you didn't strike me as a cannibal either. I guess I'm not as good at profiling as I thought."

Hannibal berated himself before continuing his way to the couch. He decided he would ignore Will; he probably wouldn't remember in the morning anyway.

"Ignoring people is rude, Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal stopped and looked back at Will briefly.

"Did you mind it?" he asked.

Will didn't answer for a while. "No, I didn't mind. I thought you knew that my affections weren't for Alana. I thought you knew that the moment I stepped into your office regarding that problem. You're a psychiatrist who can analyze people incredibly well. I'm not an idiot."

Hannibal stepped back into the room. "I thought you preferred not to be psychoanalyzed."

"That doesn't mean you don't do it." Will yawned.

Hannibal returned to his bed and sat down. "You should get some sleep Will."

Will rolled his eyes. "I'm not really keen on that sort of thing."

"You must sleep eventually. You are safe here, so why not now?"

Will fell silent. Arguing with Hannibal was inefficacious.

"If you'd like I can stay."

Will nodded sleepily, though shame dancing in his features was distinct. "Yeah. That would be nice."

Hannibal slipped under the bedsheet and turned away from Will. Will drifted off after a while, but Hannibal stayed awake.

Will was not a still sleeper. He was restless and he tossed and turned, trying desperately to escape something that he could not. Hannibal thought about waking Will up, but it was enthralling to watch. Will eventually shook himself awake, gasping for air and reaching for something that didn't exist.

"I'm here, Will. There is nothing to fear. You are safe here." Hannibal kept his voice calm and even. He thought about the absurdity of what he'd just said. Will nodded.

"Sorry." He was obviously still distressed, but Hannibal could tell that he was slightly embarrassed.

"There is nothing to apologize for."

Will mumbled something that Hannibal didn't quite catch, but he assumed it was a sarcastic quip.

Will felt Hannibal's cold breath whisper across his skin and he felt goosebumps rise.

He did not sleep at all for the remainder of the night. A lamb resting in the den of a wolf does not feel safe, no matter how gentle the wolf may seem.


End file.
